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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211427">Boyfriend Material</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesDanger/pseuds/YesDanger'>YesDanger</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fluffy Fluffs [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Retail, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Don't worry the OCs are minor, Fluff, Getting Together, Joann Fabrics, Knitting, M/M, Meet-Cute, Not Beta Read, POV Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker Can't Sew, Self-Indulgent, Sewing, This ship is underrated, but he tries so hard, they're just so cute guys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:48:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211427</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesDanger/pseuds/YesDanger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So what are you making with this?”</p><p>A little nervously, Peter begins, “A dress. For my Aunt May, not for me!”</p><p>“Hey, no pressure here, I’m sure you’d look swell.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fluffy Fluffs [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071554</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>135</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Boyfriend Material</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>100% fluff. Seriously self-indulgent fluff. Despite what my writing may tell you, I adore domestic sweet fluff, and it's the holiday season, y'all. These boys deserve happiness.</p><p>Based around that tumblr post that I can't find, to the effect of JoAnn fabrics mandates that employees ask what a customer is making with the materials they're buying at checkout, and two people fall for each other over that.</p><p>It will also likely be extremely clear I Do Not Know How To Sew. I know only the very very basics, so if I get things wrong, I'm sorry!</p><p>Hope y'all enjoy! 😊</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bucky never thought of himself as a crafty guy. Sure, he’s mended some of his clothes, some of Steve’s when his Ma’d gotten too sick to get outta bed, but that’s hardly the level of the other employees, ‘specially since he’d lost his arm. They mighta learned on the job like he is, but Sarah’s so damn good he’s not sure he’ll ever match up. Not that he particularly cares to, he’s no tailor, but it seems the thing to do, working at a fabric shop.</p><p>He’s not sure exactly <em>what</em> made the manager at his local JoAnn’s hire him, especially not after he’d gotten fired from his last job. It wasn’t like he coulda left those idiots beating each other bloody in the kids’ clothing section, and he’d certainly done less damage than the customers.</p><p>He knew his manager’d hated him, but for chrissake, it really left his coworkers in the lurch. He didn’t even like them, but he stayed ‘till the end of his shift, no matter how much that misshapen prune of a boss screamed at him. Barely heard it over the commotion, anyway.</p><p>This manager seems much nicer. Chill gal. About a foot shorter than he is.</p><p>…Maybe his ability to reach the top shelf was why he got hired, then, Bucky thinks as he stretches up to set the colorful bolt in place right at the top of the shelf near the ceiling. No need for stepstools, just ping Bucky an’ he’ll come running.</p><p>They’re not <em>wrong</em>.</p><p>“Uh, excuse me sir?” Bucky flinches at the sudden question; he hadn’t heard anyone approaching, but the voice is tentative, and Bucky forces himself to relax. He looks down and blinks at the man next to him, parsing his almost-question. He’d been working retail for a while now, but people don’t tend to come up to him. Tend to actively avoid him, actually, ‘specially pretty things like this. A quick motion pushes the fabric securely in its seat and he turns to face him.</p><p>“How can I help you, sweetheart?”</p><p>A blush steals across the young man’s freckled face as he glances at his nametag, lingering a bit on the muscle beneath. “Um, James, is it? I—”</p><p>“Bucky, please,” he cuts in as he holds out his hand to shake. The customer tentatively takes it, his hand dwarfed by Bucky’s.</p><p>“I’m Peter.”</p><p>They still haven’t stopped shaking hands, and Bucky can feel a grin forming as <em>Peter’s</em> blush stays right where it is. He doesn’t meet Bucky’s eyes in the slightest.</p><p>“Ah, I’m looking for the patterned cotton? I think?” Peter looks up through his eyelashes and Bucky is absolutely smitten.</p><p>“Right. Sure, right this way.”</p><p>--</p><p>He’s on register a little later, working on some of his online classes. The other registers have decent lines, two or three people long each, but one look at him has most customers heading right to another register, outside of little old people who can’t see a foot in front of them, their fingers curled like claws holding their crochet needles and thread spinners, or whatever they’re called.</p><p>His surprise is understandable when he hears a light cough in front of him, dragging him out of his reading on statics and right up to that man’s face. Peter.</p><p>He blushes and scrambles to put his phone away, aware that it looks like he was slacking off on shift. Sure, he was, but it was productive, dammit, it’s not like he was napping or anything.</p><p>Peter looks to be a little overwhelmed by the things in his arms, dropping them on the table with relief as Bucky begins the automatic motions of pick, scan, stack, the company-mandated words flowing through no effort of his own.</p><p>“So what are you making with this?”</p><p>A little nervously, Peter begins, “A dress. For my Aunt May, not for me!”</p><p>“Hey, no pressure here, I’m sure you’d look swell.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but raking his eyes down Peter’s form, he’s not <em>wrong</em>. He has decently broad shoulders narrowing to a lithe waist, his jeans hugging his thighs just so… Peter would look <em>great</em> in a dress. “So, a dress for your Aunt? You do that often?”</p><p>“No, this is my first time, actually.”</p><p>“What, making a dress?”</p><p>“Ah, sewing.”</p><p>Bucky pauses and takes a look at what he’s scanning in. A few yards of that colorful cotton he’d led Peter to, a beginner’s sewing kit, some scissors, some thread that fairly closely matches the fabric. Yeah, that makes sense.</p><p>“If this is your first time, you probably oughta start with somethin’ cheaper to practice with. You’ll also want a pattern, some muslin to try it on. There’s some classes, if you—”</p><p>Peter is baffled. “I didn’t realize there was so much… I was just gonna follow a tutorial, I found one I really like online, I… Hm.” A rueful smile crosses his lips. "Well, I’m gonna try my best, but if I’m back in a week, don’t be too surprised, huh Bucky?”</p><p>He leans forward over the counter more than is strictly necessary to hand Peter his bag. While he doesn’t <em>want</em> Peter to fail, per se…</p><p>“I’ll look forward to it.”</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p>Another day, another dollar. Bucky’s on cutting table duty today, which is truly a terrible choice on his manager’s part. The line’s building up, and he hopes one of his coworkers will come to, if not relieve him, at least help out until it’s back to its normal length.</p><p>It’s like they forget he’s literally missing an arm. That would be kind of nice, if it weren’t really, really inconvenient sometimes. The register is one thing, this is a little bit more difficult.</p><p>Bucky goes to clip the fabric in place when he sees a familiar hand reach out, straightening it and holding it in place from across the counter. He shoots the person a quick smile and goes down the line, cutting the fabric pretty darn neatly if he does say so himself.</p><p>When he’s finished making the receipt, he looks up and sees Peter smiling sheepishly. “It looked like you could use some help.” God, he’s adorable.</p><p>“Well, y’ain’t wrong there,” Bucky replies, absentmindedly taking the next customer. “S’not your job, though, is it?”</p><p>“Well, no, but it’s hardly an inconvenience. Should—should I stop? Is this, like, against policy or something?”</p><p>Bucky snorts. “Yeah, probably is, at that. You’re good, though.” His scissors pull through the fabric like butter now he has a helping hand. “What brings you back so soon? Only been, what, three days?”</p><p>“Yeah, about that… you were right.”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“I tried following the tutorial, but it was, well, a lot, and I kind of…”</p><p>“Fucked it up?”</p><p>“Yyyyyeah, basically. And I remember you had a bunch of advice last time, so I figured I’d come and… ask for it again?”</p><p>“’Zat a statement or a question?” Peter flushes. “Ah, I’m just kidding with you, doll. If you want advice, I can give it, but I did tell you there are classes, yeah? Might even be able to get a voucher, they go out pretty often. It’d be someone a helluva lot more qualified than I am.”</p><p>“Yeah, but I already know you and you seem… nice?”</p><p>Bucky can’t help but laugh at that, and the affirmation pours out before he has time to think about it. “Sure, I can help you out.”</p><p>A pointed cough rings out to his left. Peter might’ve helped him go a little faster, but he’s far more distracted, and that line is still growing. “…Maybe after my shift, though. You gotta number?”</p><p>--</p><p>Bucky’s at the register again, ostensibly studying. He hasn’t read a single word. Rather than his classwork, he can’t get Peter out of his head.</p><p>When Peter texted him to get together for help, he was genuinely surprised. It doesn’t make sense why he’d want sewing instruction from a random employee rather than the proper classes, people who are used to teaching. Sure they’d flirted a bit, at least he had, but Peter was shy and kind and cute as all hell and Bucky was… not. On the other hand, he’d been trying not to distrust good fortune as much, not looking a gift horse in the mouth when it comes a-running. Especially one like Peter.</p><p>Peter, who seemed so shy, had rolled into his apartment like he belonged there, or was doing his best to pretend he was, at least. He’s a terrible actor, but the effort was endearing.</p><p>Peter, who edged closer and closer to him as the night wore on, his fingertips pricking on his needle less and less, until their sides were practically touching and Bucky could feel the warmth radiating off of him.</p><p>Peter, who, if he’s not mistaken, is into him. Is into him despite the mess in his home, despite his flinching back when he was startled, despite his missing arm and unshaven jaw.</p><p>Bucky is so gone on him, and they’d only even met thrice, including all the times at work.</p><p>A throat is cleared in front of him, and his eyes refocus, an apology already on the tip of his tongue when he recognizes the figure in front of him and breaks out into a grin. “Peter! What brings you here this time? Everything working out for you so far?”</p><p>Peter laughs, his face pink. Is it just him or did the store lights just brighten? “It’s going great, actually! You were amazing, I’m actually almost done now!”</p><p>“Just in time for Christmas, great timing there,” he responds, helpless against the bubbling, sparkling <em>thing</em> in his stomach. “So what are you making with this?” A coil of ribbon, some more thread, and a skein of yarn pass over the scanner and into Peter’s bag.</p><p>Suddenly shy and mischievous at once, Peter just continues smiling with a hum. “I wonder?... It’s a secret.”</p><p>“A secret? How mysterious.”</p><p>“A sense of mystery is important to maintain, you know.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? How ‘bout I guess, and you tell me if I get it right?” Peter nods regally, clearly not expecting him to guess. “Hmm… this is for May to use, a separate gift.” A shake in the negative. “To make her dress an ugly Christmas sweater?”</p><p>“Nope!”</p><p>“For your girlfriend?” Subtle, Barnes. Real subtle.</p><p>“No girlfriend, nope. Not really my type,” he hints.</p><p>“Boyfriend then? Lucky man,” Bucky muses with only the <em>slightest</em> hint of jealousy. There’s exactly no chance that this gem hasn’t been snapped up the moment he left his home, and he really does mean it.</p><p>Peter blinks, his eyes wide in confusion and frustration, and Bucky relents. “Well, whoever it’s for is lucky to have you in their life, makin’ gifts by hand n’ all.”</p><p>“Couldn’t have done it without you, Bucky,” the smaller man lets out a soft snort, shaking his head in modesty, his smile sweet. “And I wouldn’t’ve wanted to, either. You’ve been wonderful.”</p><p>Bucky can feel his cheeks pinking to match Peter’s. “It was no problem at all. I’m here for <em>anything</em> you might need.”</p><p>If he lets his eyes linger on Peter’s backside as he exits the store, there’s nobody in his aisle to call him out on it.</p><p>Douglas from the next register over does, though.</p><p>--</p><p>It’s the day before Christmas, and the store is pretty normal. You’d really think people would plan their projects better, but there’s always a few crafty people the day before they close. One such group had just come in, frantically searching the ribbon aisle for who-knows-what, and his coworker needed a break to call her mother. Sweet girl, Emily; she looked genuinely apologetic when she went off. He’s been left in the lurch by employees who truly don’t give a fuck far too many times in his last jobs, and this doesn’t even rank. He assures her he’ll be fine, and he is. Mostly.</p><p>Okay, so he’s a little overwhelmed. He has good days and bad days, and he knew when he’d woken that morning with his teeth grinding and his hand tearing at his blankets that today was going to be awful. Nightmares to start off, then he’d found he’d run out of coffee, so he popped over to the corner store where some idiot punk decided Christmas Eve was a <em>great </em>day to rob a friggin’ bodega, so he’d had to stop that. Got a split lip from it, but nothing worse, and the owner gave him his coffee for free, so he’d <em>thought</em> the day was turning around.</p><p><em>Then </em>he found a text from a few hours earlier saying Sasha couldn’t make it to work that day, could he pretty please sub in? He’d get time and a half for the holiday, so of <em>course</em> he would, way to rub it in that he had no one stateside he could celebrate with anyway. He was running late for work at that point, as he hadn’t seen the text for some time, so he’d rushed out the door with his coffee, leaving his phone and wallet behind. <em>Then</em> he’d found that the coffee he <em>did </em>get was a bad batch, and really, he’s just lucky nothing’s been set on fire from his glares yet.</p><p>So yeah. Today’s been pretty terrible. He’s gotten better at powering through, but they’re not pleasant by any means.</p><p>After far too long, the group finds what they need, he rings them up with that gritted question, “So what are you making with this?” that they blessedly ignore, and Bucky <em>breathes</em>.</p><p>It can’t’ve been more than a minute as he breathes in, holds, and breathes out before the bell at the door rings again. He braces himself and plasters on his customer service face when he sees Peter walking in, his face flushed with cold, holding a dark blue paper bag. Thank <em>God</em>.</p><p>“Peter! What can I do for you? Everything alright?” A flicker of concern passes through him, stepping out from behind the counter to lean against it in a way that shows off his legs best. You’re damn right it’s on purpose. “You managed to get May’s thing done, yeah? How’d it turn out?”</p><p>Peter’s eyes light up at the sight of him, relief exuding from his every pore as he responds, “Bucky! I’m so glad I caught you, I wasn’t sure—I mean, it’s great! It turned out exactly like I wanted it to, thanks to you! Here, let me show you!” He pulls out his phone and leans forward, pressing against Bucky as he opens up his photos. “She hasn’t seen it yet, I’m waiting ‘til tomorrow to give it to her. She hosts a holiday party every year for the shelter on 23<sup>rd</sup>, and yeah.” Bucky leans into their contact as he looks at the end result.</p><p>It looks nice in the pictures, certainly. Peter’d ended up using the patterned bit for a central panel rather than the entire thing, with the ribbon he’d bought last week lining the border between that and the subtly ribbed fabric on the sides. It should be forgiving if the fit isn’t one hundred percent right. There’s some stitching visible along the shoulders and the ribbon, but considering Peter’d done it all himself, by hand, in a <em>month</em> when he hadn’t known how to sew a straight stitch when they’d met—“It’s incredible, Pete. I’m really impressed, she’s gonna love it for <em>sure</em>.”</p><p>The shorter man’s flush deepens as Bucky turns to look at him, and Bucky realizes just how close they are. “Thanks, it’s—I worked really hard on it,” Peter draws his phone back and steps back, coughing lightly. Ah, well, it was a nice thought.</p><p>“Say, what’d you end up using that yarn for, anyhow? The ribbon looks real nice, by the way, just… curious, I guess.”</p><p>Instead of answering, Peter goes for a complete non-sequitur. “When are you getting off?”</p><p>Hooboy, does Bucky have <em>thoughts</em> about that, but keeps his professionalism in case Emily comes by. Jeez, how long is her break, anyway? There are no customers right now, and he’s hardly working <em>hard</em> at the moment, but still. “Oh, not for another few hours,” he frowns, glancing at his watch. “Yeah, maybe two and a half? We close at six, but then we gotta clean up and all. Why d’you ask?”</p><p>A literal sag of disappointment before Peter straightens back up. “Oh, no reason at all, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later, alright?”</p><p>“You alright there, Pete?”</p><p>“I said don’t worry about it!” he responds with a smile. A little stressed, perhaps, but not truly upset, so Bucky lets it go.</p><p>“If you say so, sugar. I’ll see you around, won’t I? Not gonna give up sewing after your great triumph?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t give it up for the world.” A redoubled grin and Peter walks back out, the door bell ringing in a minor key somehow.</p><p>“So that’s Peter, huh?” Emily’s smirking, he can hear it, doesn’t even need to turn around to know it for a damn fact. “Cute.”</p><p>Bucky just shakes his head, opening his mouth to make some sorta smart comment when the door chimes again, and he gets back to work.</p><p>--</p><p>It’s nearly seven when he finally closes up, turning the key with a sigh that clouds the glass in front of him. The keys jingle like bells as he tucks them away. Christmas eve, and he’s about to end a terrible day in a terribly depressing way: going home to his slightly-too-chilly apartment, still without friggin’ coffee, alone. He just has to not get pulled over on the way; his wallet is still locked in his home. Maybe he’ll order in Chinese, that’d be nice.</p><p>Well, it was only a <em>mostly</em> terrible day. The memory of Peter’s visit brings a soft smile to his lips as he gathers himself and makes his way across the lot towards his bike.</p><p>He’s striding over, eager to get out of the cold at least, when he sees a figure leaning against it. Squinting, he can just make out—“Peter!”</p><p>“Peter, what are you doing here?” The man is shivering, breathing on his hands, and jerks up to watch Bucky half-jog the last few steps to him.</p><p>“I mean, you said you’d only be a few hours, and I…”</p><p>Frowning, Bucky takes his hands, usually so graceful, and rubs his fingers with his own. He’s not even wearing gloves, for chrissake. “Man, you’re absolutely freezing.” Without a second thought, Bucky unbuttons his long coat, opening it and pulling Peter close, wrapping it around him to share warmth as best he can. The chill of Peter so close sends a shiver running through Bucky, who just pulls him tighter, running his hand along his back to warm him up. “Does this help at all? God, have you been outside this whole time?!”</p><p>“I… maybe. I wanted to see you again, and you weren’t answering your phone earlier, and I didn’t know where else to find you. If, if you didn’t want to see me again, that’s fine, but you seemed pretty okay seeing me earlier, so I thought… was I wrong?”</p><p>“No way, doll, I’m <em>always</em> happy to see you. Not at the cost of your health, though.”</p><p>“…I didn’t want to wait before giving you this.” Peter pulls away and Bucky gets his first really good look at him, blushing, his gorgeous brown eyes glancing downward as he pulls away to grab the bag he’d had when he’d visited the store earlier that day.</p><p>Peter reaches into the bag and pulls out a cloud of black and silver, pulling it apart to reveal a long scarf. So <em>this</em> is what he’d used the yarn for. The stitching is a little uneven, but when Bucky reaches out, it’s soft against his skin. Peter <em>made</em> this for him. <em>Peter</em> made this for <em>him</em>. He can’t help the grin that steals across his cheeks.</p><p>“I…I wanted to say thank you for all the help you gave me when you really didn’t have to. And Merry Christmas, of course.”</p><p>“Aw, you didn’t have to do all this, doll,” Bucky replies, still running his hand down the knitted gift reverently. It looks to be just his style, and <em>Peter made this for him</em>.</p><p>“I know, but I wanted to.” Peter looks to be screwing up his courage, and another shiver reminds Bucky just how cold he must be. “Can... can I put it on you?”</p><p>Confused, but more than willing to humor Peter in something so small, Bucky says, “Yeah, sure thing, sugar,” and bends down to make it easier for him.</p><p>Their faces are close enough to share breath as Peter takes the scarf and winds it slowly around Bucky’s strong neck. He’s clearly focusing intently on that task, but all Bucky can see are his doe eyes so focused through his eyelashes, a freckle on his left cheek, his lips almost blue in the winter air. He almost doesn’t notice when Peter’s done, his hands resting on the ends of the scarf on Bucky’s chest, two points of heat. He’s sure Pete can feel his heart racing, but he doesn’t pull away.</p><p>He doesn’t pull away when Peter grabs the two scarf-tails.</p><p>He sure as <em>hell</em> doesn’t pull away when he uses them to pull Bucky down just a little bit more to meet his lips, chapped and cool but <em>swiftly </em>warming. Bucky’s arm comes back to Peter’s waist—god, that waist—for stability.</p><p>The kiss is over too soon, Peter breaking the chaste contact to bite his bottom lip in a way that should be illegal. His hands fiddle with Bucky’s new scarf, fingertips just brushing bare skin where it wraps around. “Is this… okay?”</p><p>An incredulous chuckle bubbles out of his throat as Bucky drags his hand across Peter’s back and gently pulls him closer until they’re chest-to-chest once more. “Doll, it’s more than okay,” he replies, his thumb stroking the other’s back.</p><p>The scarf is thick and warm and smells of Peter, but it’s nothing compared to Peter beaming and wrapping his arms around Bucky to tentatively grasp at his neck, his fingertips already chilling again, to bring him closer for another kiss.</p><p>They stay there for a while, just kissing and pressing cold noses into cheeks and basking in this new, potential <em>thing</em> until it gets to be freezing enough that they really can’t stay outside.</p><p>“You wouldn’t want to come back to my place, would you? Get warmed up a lil, maybe drink some cocoa, anything you want.”</p><p>Peter tucks his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck. “I really wish I could, but, well, my Aunt’s waiting for me and—”</p><p>“And it’s Christmas, I understand.”</p><p>“But maybe… tomorrow? For the parade?”</p><p>Bucky lays one last kiss on Peter’s soft curls with a smile and reluctantly lets go. “That sounds perfect.”</p><p>Equally reluctantly, Peter backs out of his one-handed embrace, only to dive in for one <em>last </em>last kiss before darting away towards… however he got here.</p><p>The soft scarf is still thick and warm and smells of Peter where he ducks his face into it.</p><p>Maybe today wasn’t <em>too </em>terrible.</p>
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